


Inside A Dream

by coloursflyaway



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, Harry Hart Lives, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Safewords, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3649125">Take It Fast, Make It Slow</a>, since so many people requested a cockwarming fic. So here it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside A Dream

„Safeword?“, Harry asks, looking down at him, handsome and as always, in control. Any other time, Eggsy would roll his eyes, because they have been through this so bloody often already, but his mind is too close to _that_ space to do so. That space where everything is calm and quiet and nothing exists but the two of them and nothing matters but pleasing Harry. Sir.  
“Lancelot”, he answers, nuzzles Harry’s thigh just for a second, presses a kiss to the dark fabric of the other’s trousers. Sometimes it’s almost overwhelming how much he loves Harry, how much he trusts him, not just, but also, with things like this.

“Very good, Gary”, Harry praises, and the name makes Eggsy shiver, the praise makes him keen. It should be embarrassing how much he needs the kind words, the assurance that he is doing well, but around Harry, nothing seems to embarrass him anymore.

Without another word, the other leans down, wraps a large, warm hand around Eggsy’s left wrist and pulls it back, uses the handcuffs already dangling from the other to secure his arms behind his back. He’s not rough, but not gentle either, moves with the same efficiency that Eggsy has admired for so long.  
There is a soft, metallic click when Harry snaps the cuffs closed and Eggsy feels his cock twitch, knows he’ll probably end up ruining the carpet with the precome dribbling from the tip.  
Maybe Harry will let him suck it out of the soft strands later.

Shuffling a little closer, Eggsy takes a deep breath, smells Harry’s aftershave, his shampoo, the faint tinge of sweat, and holds onto that, lets the scent pull him down further until he’s just tethering on the edge of being his snarky, cocky self and the creature that Harry sometimes turns him into. Docile and submissive, impossibly eager to please.

“Kiss me?”, Eggsy asks, knowing both that it will be the last request he’ll make in a long time and that he wouldn’t have to ask – it’s as much part of the ritual as the cuddling afterwards, as the name Gary; Harry always gives him a last, sweet kiss, before he pushes him over the edge.

Now, he chuckles softly, but leans in anyway, with a smile and a hand cupping his jaw, a thumb stroking over Eggsy’s cheekbone before Harry leans in.  
The kiss is hardly more than a brush of lips and yet it makes the last traces of fear that were still clutching to Eggsy’s mind vanish, fills those few corners that rational thought never seemed to touch with warmth and trust.  
He’s safe here, in Harry’s arms, Eggsy knows that, even if his mind sometimes needs to be reminded of it.

When Harry pulls away, makes Eggsy whine a little for the lack of contact, his posture has changed, but not the way he looks at Eggsy, at least not for another few moments; his eyes are warm and fond, affectionate. Sometimes, he looks at Eggsy like this when they’re at HQ, when they’re having dinner, but it doesn’t make it any less special right now.

And then Harry looks away, opens his trousers, doesn’t even take them off but just pulls his cock out.

It’s still soft while Eggsy is so hard he could cry, and for some insane reason, it makes this better. Harry doesn’t look at him again, just wraps his fingers around the shaft, pulls Eggsy forward with the hand cupping his jaw, feeds his cock into Eggsy’s mouth, inch by inch.  
Eggsy swallows it down without hesitation, feels himself starting to slip away; every fibre of his being is concentrated on covering his teeth, pushing his tongue up against the underside of Harry’s cock just so, on breathing slowly, deeply. On keeping still and letting Harry pull him in until he’s satisfied.

By the time Harry stops, settles back, Eggsy’s nose is pressed lightly against the older man’s stomach, the head of Harry’s cock resting against the very back of his tongue, tickling the back of his throat with every breath either of them takes.  
For a few moments neither of them moves, but then Harry reaches over to grab a book, some cheesy crime story that Eggsy would usually tease him for, but right now it makes him moan softly. There is something special about knowing that he doesn’t hold all of Harry’s attention, that there is something else that is more important than his mouth wrapped around the other’s length; it makes Eggsy feel small and yet important, another thing Harry uses for his relaxation.

Harry’s cock twitches slightly against his tongue, but the other man doesn’t even seem to notice, doesn’t seem to notice Eggsy between his spread legs, hands cuffed behind his back and kneeling on two cushions, one between his thighs and shins, one just underneath his knees.  
Because Harry takes care of him even when they’re like this, a thought that makes it so much easier to just lose himself to this.

Above him, Harry turns the first page, and Eggsy shifts ever so subtly, gets into a slightly more comfortable position, relaxes his jaw as much as he can.  
Like this, when he’s so impossibly close, he can smell Harry as if the other was the only other person in the world, and when Eggsy allows his watering eyes to close, he is.

Everything around him goes quiet, melts away until the only things Eggsy feels are his tense muscles, the heat and weight of Harry on his tongue, his taste and smell and the sound when Harry turns a page.  
By now, he’s so hard his hips are begging to move, even if just to fuck the thin air, but Eggsy keeps them still; this is not about his pleasure, this is about serving Harry.

Although Eggsy is trying to keep his lips sealed tightly around Harry’s shaft, doesn’t take long until the first drops of saliva escape them, slide down his jaw and chest, but Eggsy couldn’t wipe them away if he wanted to. Harry is taking him apart, piece by piece, without moving a muscle.

It only gets worse from there; before long Eggsy is drooling all over Harry’s cock, but has stopped caring. He is lost in time and space and in Harry’s scent, focussed on this and nothing else.  
Maybe it’s a strange kind of peace, but it’s the one that Harry can give him, and the one that Eggsy needs so desperately from time to time, between missions, when his hands feel permanently tainted with someone else’s blood.

Only when Harry sighs softly and there is a light weight set against Eggsy’s head, hard and rigid, he is pulled back partly into the here and now. He knows what it is, has to be, and yet Eggsy pries his eyes open to take a look.  
Harry is resting his book against his head as if he was a coffee table, and it’s humiliating, makes blood rush to Eggsy’s cheeks and yet feels so, so right. Because Harry shouldn’t have to hold that book up himself, not when he’s got Eggsy to do so.

His cock twitches, leaks even more precome that dribbles over the length of his cock and down his heavy balls; Eggsy had almost managed to forget about his own desperate erection, but is forcibly reminded now. His cock is throbbing with need, the muscles in his abdomen tense, and Eggsy is suddenly impossibly grateful that Harry decided to use the handcuffs on him, because he isn’t sure if he’d manage to keep his hands to himself right now.

Without wanting to, Eggsy makes a small, desperate sound at the back of his throat, cannot help it, and although Harry doesn’t say a word, he can feel the other’s cock harden slightly against his tongue.  
It shouldn’t, but it feels like a success, like praise in its own way, and Eggsy closes his eyes again, concentrates on keeping still, on forgetting about the beginning ache in his jaw.

It works better than expected, somewhere between breathing and listening to his heartbeat in his ears, Eggsy manages to lose himself once more. He only swallows once, when he’s not paying attention; Harry doesn’t make a sound, but reaches down between his legs and digs his fingernails into Eggsy’s scalp.  
It makes him shiver.

Pages are turned and turned and turned again, and Eggsy’s muscles are starting to cramp, but he’s still not moving. Harry is growing hard inside his mouth, slowly, as if he couldn’t help it, and Eggsy doesn’t know if to encourage it or not.  
They haven’t talked about it, and when he’s like this, he doesn’t know what to do without Harry’s voice in his ear, giving him instructions.  
So Eggsy just stays the way he is, feels Harry’s shaft stretch his lips out even more, more drool sliding down his chin, the head of the other’s cock a constant pressure against the back of his throat now. It’s not quite enough to make him gag yet, and still Eggsy knows that it could become just that any second; it’s as frightening a thought as it is exhilarating.

Instead of moving away, Eggsy tries to breathe through it, relaxes his sore jaw as much as he can and feels Harry’s cock slowly swell and harden until it’s filling out his mouth, reaching down his throat.  
He’s taken the other just as far before, even farther, but this feels different, impossibly intimate.

Harry above him still doesn’t seem to notice, keeps turning pages, taking sips of his whiskey and it makes it so much better still. It’s not often that it surpasses even his fantasies when they do something like this, but this time, it does.  
What Eggsy expected was to feel at peace, used in the best way, but this is better still: He feels used, but owned at the same time, like he belongs to Harry, a precious piece in his collection of toys. And although he didn’t know before, it seems that it’s what Eggsy wants, for Harry to make him his in every possible way.

Slowly, it’s getting hard to breathe, his lungs not satisfied when Eggsy breathes in, ache a little when he breathes out again, but Eggsy ignores it, even when he feels Harry’s cock grow inside his mouth, every inch making it more difficult not to gag.. It's easier to do so than expected, as if his need to please Harry surpassed even his basest biological urges.

It’s only when Eggsy is seeing stars in front of his closed eyes from the lack of oxygen, when his jaw is cramping and his cock is so hard he knows it wouldn’t take more than two, three strokes to get him off, that Harry slides a hand into his hair again, pulls him off.  
Not completely, just so that only the head of Harry’s cock is resting in Eggsy’s mouth, making it easier to breathe again. And breathe he does, long, slow breaths that won’t make him splutter, allow him to stay still, wait for an instruction, no matter if uttered out-loud or told through touch.

And Harry gives it, pulls him in again, makes Eggsy swallow down the whole length of his cock again, only that this time, it makes Eggsy gag, because it’s fast instead of slow, hard instead of gentle. Still, Harry doesn’t relent, doesn’t even look down at him, spit and tears mixing on his face, and Eggsy loves him with an intensity that would punch the air out of his lungs, if any was left.

Harry drags his head up and down his cock with steady, slow movements, not caring if Eggsy needs to breathe, if he is gagging or spluttering around the shafts; he’s taking his pleasure and Eggsy has problems keeping up.  
But Harry takes care of that too, steels his grip on Eggsy’s hair and doesn’t give him any choice but to take it, just like he promised he would.

It seems to take an eternity and yet just a moment until Eggsy can feel Harry’s cock twitch, the other’s fingers tightening further in his hair and he knows what will happen before Harry pulls him off, holds him still and finally sets the book down.  
Eggsy is panting, his vision still dimmed by tears and the lack of oxygen when Harry wraps his fingers around his own shaft, starts stroking with purpose.

A dozen strokes, maybe more, and then a soft groan escapes Harry’s lips; Eggsy closes his eyes and it’s just a few seconds until the first spurts of hot, sticky come land on his still-parted lips, his chin and cheeks. It’s another way of claiming him, marking him.  
The feeling, the taste are enough to make Eggsy moan, make his cock twitch desperately against his stomach, but he stays completely still, waits until Harry speaks.

But he doesn’t, not for a long time; the sofa creaks and the fabric of Harry’s shirt brushes over Eggsy’s flushed skin, there are gentle hands on his wrist, unlocking the cuffs and taking them off. It’s a relief to just let them fall to his side, and Eggsy dares to open his eyes, sees Harry looking down at him, trapped somewhere between the man who kisses Eggsy’s cheek before he gets up in the morning and the one that calls him a naughty little slut and chokes him on his cock.

“Gary”, the other says to get Eggsy’s attention, as if he didn’t have it the whole time. He looks affectionate, but still so beautifully in control, so sure of himself. “Oh, just look at you. So hard just from this. If I had known I could have had you kneeling between my legs the whole day in the office, your mouth wrapped around my cock, keeping it nice and warm.”  
The thought makes Eggsy shiver, and Harry has to notice, because he looks at him amusedly, raises an eyebrow. “I’ll definitely consider that in the future. My precious little slut.”

Harry leans forward, and Eggsy can’t help but shuffle closer, his mind still clouded with lust and need.  
“You may touch yourself, Gary”, Harry mutters softly, touches a hand to Eggsy’s cheek; Eggsy leans up into it. “You were so good for me, you deserve it.”

It’s the words Eggsy was longing to hear, his head spinning with the bit of praise, and it doesn’t take more than a second until Eggsy has one hand around his cock, the other gripping his balls tightly, massaging them. He doesn’t even make it through the third stroke before he spills himself all over his hand, a few drops falling down to the floor.

His legs almost give out under him, even while the last aftershocks are still wrecking through him, but Harry is there to catch him, like always.  
The other’s arms are warm and strong, and Eggsy lets out a dry sob, overwhelmed, clutches to Harry with all the strength he has left, lets himself be lifted up into Harry’s lap.  
“Shhh”, Harry mutters, uses the cuff of his shirt to clean up the mess of saliva, come and tears on Eggsy’s face, his other hand resting between Eggsy’s shoulder blades. “You’ve done so well, my heart, my darling boy. You’ve made me so proud, you don’t even know how much I love you, my Eggsy…”

It’s all Eggsy needs to hear and then some; he’s still clinging to Harry, but slowly relaxes, lets Harry’s voice lead him back to here and now, to their living room, their couch, his lover’s arms.  
“Love you too”, he mutters, wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and lets his eyes drift closed. “Thank you for this. And I did good, yeah?”  
Harry chuckles, a deep, sweet sound, and tightens his hold around Eggsy’s waist, presses a kiss to the crown of Eggsy’s head.  
“Always”, he says, and it sounds a little like a promise. “You always do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


End file.
